Novels by meshairi

That night, we moved in the dark.Caite rolled up the maps and tucked them under her jacket. I packed the rations into my backpack, careful not to clink the cans together. My hands were slow, deliberate, like they knew this was the last time they’d touch anything here. Caite zipped up the last of the bags while I double-checked the load. We were leaving tonight. Just the three of us.Tito Weston stood by the edge of the clearing, arms crossed. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… they were tired in a way I hadn’t seen before. Not just sleep-deprived or worn thin from another chase through the woods. This was something deeper. Bone-tired. Soul-worn.“Everything’s here,” he finally said, voice rough. “Food, medkits, iodine tabs, lighter.” He walked over, pulled something from behind his back, and held it out to me. A compact silver handgun. Standard grip. Full mag. Clean. Reliable.“For protection,” he said.I hesitated for a second. Then took it.The weight settled into my palm like

It had been hours since we heard it, but the fuzzy voice through the static still echoed in my mind. ...puso ng isla… sinaunang karunungan… …ang banal na ubasan… magdadala sa santuwaryo It's deep-cut stuff. Only someone born here would get it. And I knew it meant something. It meant refuge. I didn’t tell the others. Not even Caite. But she knew something was up. She kept throwing glances at me across the campfire like she was trying to read a book she couldn’t open. I gave her nothing. Not until we were alone, kneeling beside the gear pile under the tarp. “It’s in Panimo, the island's center,” I told her in a whisper. “Woodpine Valley University is located in there. A safe zone. But the only way in is through the old ossuary beneath the church.” Her mouth parted slightly. “How can you be sure?” “I grew up hearing stories from Lolo. ‘When the light is low, seek God below.’ He said it's a passage they used to say when hiding during storms. Or wars.” “And you just...

Ginny was gone. So was Carmen. Jia too.We stayed in our temporary campsite. Seb had just finished sharpening the edge of a wooden spear. Adrian kept pacing, muttering numbers and map coordinates like they were holy verses. Rory wouldn’t talk. Weston tried, but she stared right through him, like he was air.It was Caite who broke the silence.“We can’t just sit here and cry.”“Who’s crying?” Rory snapped.Caite didn’t flinch. “You, inside.”That shut everyone up.We spent the rest of the day like that—half grieving, half scheming. Chief Andy took stock of supplies while Brie and Mat cleaned what weapons we had left.The drone may be gone, but not our fight. They wanted blood? We were ready to give them hell.Seb pitched noise decoys. Adrian suggested mimicking old military distress beacons. Weston described pressure-triggered tripwires using broken mine casings. Everyone added something. It was messy, desperate, but alive. Something we hadn’t felt in a long time.Then came the questio

We rested longer than we should’ve. Trying to breathe—each breath heavier than the last. We couldn’t make the sounds we needed to. No one could cry, not even if they wanted to. The silence was loud enough.When the first light came, everyone decided that it's time to bury her.The ground was cold under my fingertips, and the air smelled like wet leaves. We didn’t even mark the grave. Just piled the earth over her body.Caite paced. She looked at the ground when anyone tried to say something about Ginny. I almost thought she was going to break again. Maybe I wanted her to. She was always the one with words for everything. Always the spark.Now... nothing.I didn’t know what to say either. I was starting to forget how.I stared at the spot where we left her—too much like something I should’ve done differently, but I couldn't do it now, could I?But then the windows behind us shattered before I could process it. I heard Tito Weston shout, but it wasn’t a call to action. It was a warning

The drone hovered just above us like an obedient pet, its whirring quiet enough to blend with the wind. No longer a threat, not since Adrian disabled its tracker. He gutted the thing’s surveillance feed too. Now, it only saw what we wanted it to see. It moved when we moved. Stopped when we did. We split into two teams. Adrian and the others stayed to protect the satellite. The rest of us were on supply duty—Chief, Tito Weston, Mat, Leo, Carmen, Caite, Ginny, and me. Every day was the same: scout, scavenge, and pray the creepers didn’t catch our scent. "You’d think the zombies would get tired after running nonstop," Mat grunted as we navigated a ruined highway covered in wreckage. He nudged a fallen sign with his boot. “Welcome to hell, population: us.” Caite snorted. “Do you ever stop talking?” “Not unless someone blows me up.” “Tempting,” I muttered. "Basta if I die, I want a burial where the creepers can’t find me. Drop me in the ocean or launch me into space.” "You’d

The distant moans of the undead became a constant reminder of our grim reality. Their decaying stench clung to the air as we trudged through the desolate streets. After the harrowing events of the previous day—bringing down one of those relentless drones—we knew time wasn't on our side. The military's puppets would be searching for their lost toy, and we had to act fast. In order to make our plan work and turn their weapon against them, we needed to scavenge for food, equipment, and supplies. But time really is a commodity we scarcely possessed. The frame of abandoned establishments silhouetted against the violet dusk, like a fossil from a world we no longer knew. The sun was already setting down again. Everyone needed a rest. And so, we set a camp in the middle of the broken road. Someone got the fire going, and everyone gathered around it. The flames crackled, but its warmth barely touched the cold that clung to our skin. I sat apart, a little farther from the group, hugging